


and so it goes

by robin_hoods



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drift Side Effects, Established Relationship, Gen, Grocery Shopping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't have some part of Hermann's personality transplanted into himself. He's still Newt, and only Newt – with a new set of memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and so it goes

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Kurt Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse-Five_
> 
> First fic in the fandom, and it's something like this. *hides under sofa*

It's six months after the Breach has been closed, and Newt finds himself with a dilemma. Should he go for the frozen peas, or the frozen spinach? It's not a problem he imagined himself having about a year ago, but than again, he doesn't think anyone in coastal areas would have, with the rising amount of kaiju attacks. He should be dead, he thinks. Within good reason, he should be dead. And yet he's not.

No, he's standing in front of a freezer, deciding whether to take spinach or peas. The worst part is, he knows he likes the peas, but some other part of him, the part of his brain that Hermann touched Newt likes to joke sometimes, that part is firmly insisting on the spinach.

It's a bit annoying, actually. It's the same part of his brain that now insists he should stop living on the edge, that if he takes that brand of crackers instead of the expensive one he'll save himself some money, that if he just-- It's Hermann's voice, really, as if he's standing right next to him while Newt's trying to decide between peas and spinach, and there's nothing quite as disturbing as Hermann whispering in his ear about how nutritious the spinach would be.

Which is completely ridiculous, of course. The drift doesn't work like that, and he doesn't have some part of Hermann's personality transplanted into himself. He's still Newt, and only Newt – with a new set of memories.

Memories of two mothers and two fathers, of shouting matches in the yard, of M&M sandwiches, of seaweed between his toes and chalk on his fingers. There were memories of doctors and dentists, of blurry vision when he could not find his glasses, of searing pain in his leg – and sometimes it throbbed, at night, when he couldn't sleep. It makes him wonder if that's what Hermann feels like when he lies in his bed, wide awake, unable to sleep.

This does not help him with his peas and spinach dilemma. Not at all, in fact. In the end, he drops both of them in his shopping basket. They could fight over what they would eat for supper at the flat.

“You didn't take the peas, did you?” Hermann almost immediately verbally assaults him when Newt vaults through the door. “Peas are a hazard to your health, Newton. What if you eat one, and something happens. Death lies around the corner, and statistics point out most accidents happen within the walls of your home. Therefore, peas are detrimental to your health.”

Newt blinks. “Okay. Then _I_ will eat the peas, and _you_ will eat the spinach,” he replies. Hermann feels the need to scrutinise every little thing Newt does, but Newt just takes it in stride. It's a thing Hermann did back at the lab as well, and it doesn't look as if he will stop anytime soon. There is a clear line in the bedroom between Newt's part, and Hermann's part. Hermann has all of the healthy cereals, while Newt pops in some toast early in the morning. Hermann likes to watch television programs where people talk intelligently to each other, preferably without yelling. Newt likes to watch quiz shows and yells answers at the television screen, groaning loudly when the contestants get their answers wrong.

“They're _peas_ ,” Hermann feels the need to insist when Newt puts his purchases on the kitchen counter.

“I know,” Newt says. “If you think peas are disgusting, just say so. I'm not going to force you to eat them, Hermann.”

“Don't call me that,” Hermann says, disgruntled. “And, well, okay.” He narrows his eyes at Newt. “You are... going to make the spinach tonight, right?”

“And not put in any peas, cross my heart,” Newt says. Hermann stumbles back towards the sofa, and grumbles about Newt having to clean up after himself, because one day, he is going to break his neck over Newt's equipment.

Newt smiles to himself. The spinach or peas dilemma never really was a dilemma at all. That was just the Hermann part of his brain, insisting that it had to be.


End file.
